


Care

by weirdwriterperson



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Cutting, Gen, Hunk Needs A Hug, Hunk is not ok, Not Happy, Not about Klance, Self-Harm, but it is mentioned, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdwriterperson/pseuds/weirdwriterperson
Summary: What do you do when no one's around and you're having trouble coping? Nothing good.





	Care

Hunk mixed the ingredients at a slow pace, willing his mind to slow down and match it.

It was a whirl wind though. Trying to find everything that could go wrong and what that would lead to and if there was a way to prevent it, but preventing it always seemed to bring up a new problem and the process would start over then he would end up with his original plan and everything would come full circle and he would _really_ have to start over.

He needed to calm down.

Which is how he found himself in the kitchen in the first place. Step by step gathering the ingredients before mixing and stirring them all together. A process he often used to calm down.

Though it didn’t seem to be working this time, he kept at it. Hoping that by the end of it that little voice would just stop.

“Hey, man!” Pidge startled him slightly, making him jump, “You trying to make cookies again? No offence, but I think I prefer my cookies working as lenses rather than in my stomach.”

Letting himself fall back into the comfort of hanging with his friends, Hunk laughed.

“Nah. But I do think I may have found a nice recipe for some delicious cake, if I do say so myself. Would you like to stay and help?” He wagged his eye brows, “You can be the taste tester!”

Pidge grimaced, “Um, no offence Hunk, but I think I’ll wait for someone else to have that honor.”

Hoping he could still get her to stay and help, he shrugged, “All good. Hand me that bowl? The one with what looks like raw eggs in it.”

“Sure,” no sooner had she handed him the bowl than was she heading back out the door, “I’m going to go finish coding this thing. Its great! Show you later!”

Before he could give his farewell, he was alone again.

He could live with that though.

Figuring the mix was good enough, he poured it in a pan and slid it in the oven.

Looking around the room he tried to figure out what to do next. He _had_ already found that stuff that was like icing at the last planet. It’s what made him decide to make the cake in the first place.

He winced at the bare cupboards. Given the sugar content of most of the food at the last planet Coran had voted against doing a lot of buying there and while Hunk had agreed at the time, he wished he had more to work with now.

Slipping out of the kitchen, Hunk placed the timer on his hip.

Lance.

He always encouraged Lance to find him when he was in a bad place of mind. Surely the other wouldn’t mind if they hung out.

After finding his room empty and the couple spots in the castle Lance wandered to hide from Coran with his chores, Hunk started to wonder if the boy was avoiding him.

Maybe he had been there when he knocked on his door? Maybe he had been hiding in one of those old boxes? Lance always went to Hunk when he was upset, but that didn’t really mean anything. It’s not like he hadn’t realized the other boy had a tendency to assume everyone already hated him. No, Hunk understood that very well. The two were always there to tell each other when the other’s thoughts were getting too on the side of irrational or preventing them from doing something they wanted to.

That’s how they got to space.

But, if Lance thought everyone else hated him then maybe he only hung around because he thought he had no other option.

Dammit. Lance was definitely hiding from him.

“And he says _I’m_ a loser?” Hunk was brought back from his thoughts by a red water bottle bouncing by his feet, “Shit. Sorry Hunk, I was just training and … Lance. Sorry.”

Of course.

“eh, you’re fine?”

It was weak, but he never knew how to apologies when Lance got someone like this.

Usually they had blond hair and were named Jenny, but still.

Keith nodded and walked passed him. Hunk was about to remind him of the water bottle, but when he looked down it was gone.

He really didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze why that boy could seem like such a klutz sometimes if he could pick up a water bottle with such grace.

Lance. Lance was probably still in the training room.

He jogged to the door and peered in. Lance was there. But so was Shiro.

They were fighting hand to hand. Shiro punched Lance’s shoulder, twice. Lance tried to throw back his own punch, but was blocked and he got hit again. This time to his helmet. Shiro used the moment to sweep his feet out, pin him, and drive a purple arm into the ground next to his face.

“Not good enough.” Shiro let his arm die, but kept Lance pinned, “Having a long range weapon is not an excuse for poor hand to hand skills. In fact, yours need to be better. If someone gets close enough to hit you, you can’t stun them away like Pidge. You have to learn to dodge, hit back, and take them down instead. Again.”

When standing Lance made eye contact with Hunk. His brows furrowed, “Shiro, can I?”

“After training.” Shiro nodded to Hunk, “This is important.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but Shiro was already there throwing quick jabs.

That was ok.

_It’s been a while any way. All the scars I have now are from missions._

Part of Hunk fought it as he went back to his room. Tried to list the reasons he shouldn’t, but every point had a counter.

_They’ll notice. Though, they haven’t yet and if they did it was easy to say it was just from a battle._

_It’s not healthy. But isn’t it? Everything feels better after and what I do is nothing really, compared to what happens in battle sometimes._

_Exactly, that should be enough. I don’t need to do any more._

_But, I do. Just pick it up. I’ll just pick it up and decide from there._

He pulls it out of one his bags of engineering supplies.

Despite how long he’d had and used it, it was still sharp. What else would he expect from Altean tools? When he had quietly taken the small scalpel from med bay it was exactly what he was counting on.

Three.

That’s all he was allowed to do.

One to the upper part of his left arm, shallow and not to long, but too short either. One close the knuckle on his right hand, shorter but deeper and passible as a paper cut. One along the inside of his foot, short.

He wouldn’t do any more. Not till they all healed and there were no visible scars. And he would apply antibiotics three times a day to make sure he was ok.

That’s what he was doing.

Taking care of himself.

Everything was fine.

He was fine.

Right?

_Fuck. Fuck. Shit, that was not ok. I can’t keep doing that._

Dabbing away at the blood, he tried to clean everything back up. Make it look like nothing had happened.

The cut on his hand was the only one that really bled any, but even that wasn’t much.

Once it was dry he moved back to unlock his door. They rarely kept it locked and he didn’t need Lance asking too many questions. The boy would just blame himself.

Glancing at the timer he figured he should go and check on his cake.


End file.
